Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

designed specially for him, and Lewis really wished she hadn't. Black leather armor, very form fitting, with a stylized gold crown in bas-relief on his chest, right
    over his heart. Lewis thought it made a great target to aim at. The leather also pinched in all the wrong places, and made loud creaking noises every time he moved. At least he still had his own familiar sword and gun, comforting weights on his hips, ready to hand. Anne had tried to make him wear some flashy ceremonial sword, but there were limits. Jewel-encrusted hilts did not make for a good grip.
    Jesamine Flowers, the Queen-to-be, fluttered around the cramped little room like a gorgeous butterfly, resplendent in flowing pastels and jangling jewelry, alighting here and there, wherever something caught her interest. Her hair had been pulled back in a formal bun, and her makeup was relatively understated, but she was still a bright and glamorous figure. Anne had gone to great pains to tactfully explain to Jesamine that she mustn't overshadow the King on his first public appearence in the House, but short of putting a bag over her head, there wasn't much Jesamine could do. She dazzled. It was what she did. It didn't help that there wasn't really anything for her to do. So she kept herself busy, taking an interest in everything and getting in everyone's way.
    The room was packed with state-of-the-art computers, security and surveillance tech, some of it so newly installed the boxes it came in were still piled up in the corners. Instruction manuals were scattered all over, already heavily bookmarked and dog-eared. All kinds of equipment had been piled haphazardly on top of each other, often disturbingly precariously, and one entire wall of the room had disappeared behind banks of monitor screens showing ever-changing images of the rest of the House. There was also a top-of-the-line food processor, and an arcane piece of equipment that promised to make first-class coffee, if they could ever figure out how to make it do what it was supposed to do.
    Anne Barclay, in another of her smart gray suits, moved quickly from computer terminal to monitor screen and back again, her eyes darting furiously over the incoming information, muttering constantly under her breath and jotting down notes to herself on her personal planner as she went. She was in her element, and loving every minute of it. She'd been up most of the night and all of that morning preparing the way for Douglas's big day; and if it wasn't a great success, by God someone was going to pay for it and it sure as hell wasn't going to be her. She'd pulled every string, called in every favor she was owed, bullied and cajoled all the right people, and covered every eventuality she could think of; but it was the nature of politics that it could always surprise you, and rarely pleasantly.
    Jesamine finally ran out of things to distract her, scooped some empty boxes out of a chair and dropped into it, crossing her long legs with elegant flair. She sighed loudly, to attract everyone's attention, and announced, "I just love what you've done with this place, Anne darling. It's so you!'
    "Originally, Robert and Constance had this room set aside just for them," said Anne, deliberately not looking around from what she was doing. "So they'd have somewhere private they could sit and talk, and do a little private plotting and planning, without being interrupted all the time. It later evolved into an information gathering and sorting station, so they could stay on top of things. All the best equipment, and apparently they ran it themselves, so they wouldn't have to worry about who they could and couldn't trust. King and Parliament were still working out the order of things in those days, and in the ever-changing political situation, Robert and Constance were determined to keep on top of things.
    "William and Niamh, on the other hand, inherited a much more stable operation, and were apparently content to let it pretty much run itself. As far as I can tell, neither of them used this room much, if at all.
    William just turned up at the House when required, nodded in the right places, when he thought anyone was looking at him, and saved his energies for State occasions and public appearances. At which, it must be said, he and Niamh were very good. No one could smile and wave like they could.
    "I only knew this place existed because it was mentioned in Robert's private notes, which I inherited when I became Head of Protocol.